


Cycles and Squares

by CapuletCunt



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bad Parenting, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Some Humor, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapuletCunt/pseuds/CapuletCunt
Summary: After a mental break. Gary Smith spends three months in his hometown's local "Psychiatric Hospital". He begins a slow recovery with an extremely patient therapist and new medication, but begins to relapse when a hazzy figure from his childhood is reintroduced. Gary decides to catalog the events of the year in a journal, including: a sinister plot for revenge, the promise of a wealthy inheritance, and a unplanned friendship with tempestuous waiter.Originally released as "It doesn't Matter"
Relationships: Gary Smith/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Cycles and Squares

**Author's Note:**

> Hated the first chapter and the title of "It doesn't matter" so I deleted it, took some bits from it and reworked it with what was originally going to be Chapter 2 and I like it more. Hope you like it too. More should be on the way.

8/18

I hadn't bothered using this stupid journal until today. But, this is urgent.

Conspiracy is afoot and I know it. 

The looming presence of my family always makes itself apparent. Creeping up in the back of my mind, sucking my energy dry like a virus. 

Even though no one's ever actually bothered showing their face around here, I know they're always lurking around. 

They have to be. The state still considers me a minor. And it's _their_ insurance that keeps me here.

Still, the only effort any of them have ever made in relation to my recovery was two, lousy, phone calls from my mother at the beginning of my stay. 

I declined both, of course.

I didn't expect anyone to actually show up.

I had been painfully wrong in that assumption. 

This morning they had me called down to the therapist's office earlier than usual.

Typically, my therapy appointments are at 9:45, right after breakfast.

Today, the apes they hire to rough us up and scare us into submission, had me dragged out of my room at eight o'clock sharp.

They didn't even have time to poke and prod at me for vitals like they normally do. That didn't really ruin my day, it was just a bit odd.

At first, I assumed one of the addicts on the ward snitched on me for a few burglaries I had lied about being innocent of. 

It's not exactly my fault that this place is so lax with their confidentiality though, is it? 

Look, the information desk is unguarded at 11:00 pm when that male secretary goes to jerk off in the bathroom. 

They don't let us watch TV or listen to music that doesn't make me fall asleep and the "entertainment" they  **_do_ ** provide us with is all puzzles and card games and that's it.

These people are practically begging me to steal from the records and rewrite information. They're essentially getting paid to enable me.

Turns out, that wasn't actually what the fuss was about. But I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't spent the majority of the walk down to my therapist's office plotting against the junkies I'd assumed ratted me out.

My rage evolved into an onslaught of completely different emotions as I entered the room.

I consider my therapist here at the asylum, Dr. Ellsworth, one of the better ones in this shit-hole town. Someone who's on my level and actually understands me. Well, most of the time.

Though, I'm probably a bit partial to her, as she's been the sole proprietor of my spank bank for nearly three months. 

That's why I considered it a bit of a betrayal when I entered her office to find her having a completely casual conversation with a white haired man in an ugly red Hawaiian shirt.

I almost expected him to turn around and yell at me for interrupting him. I figured they both heard me enter the room. But, apparently, he hadn't. 

He was too preoccupied with the women in the chair across from him. No doubt he was bad-mouthing me and undermining my efforts to escape this prison. 

At that moment, I was thrown full throttle back into the living room of my parents house. 

I was five. I had waddled in from the back yard crying uncontrollably with a swollen eyelid. I had failed, yet again, to figure out how to use the sling shot I had been gifted.

I remember my mom was "asleep" on the couch and he was going after my dad about something I didn't understand and I didn't care about at the time.

"I didn't raise no cowardly, leech!" He yelled something along those lines at my father and I hesitated to approach them.

"That's not what this is about! It's not exactly like you tried to explain anything before you started dumping all this shit on me!" 

I remember the exact words my father said at that moment. Because, in my dumb little kid mind, I felt like that had been the best moment to pull on the sleeve of his suit jacket.

I'd been wrong. He flicked his wrist to get me to let go and inadvertently ended up whipping my forehead with his hand in the process. 

It stung a bit and a few more tears fell. I'd certainly been hit harder before, but I think I just wanted attention or something like that.

"Go bug your mom, kid. Can't you see the adults are talking?"

I whimpered slightly but obeyed his command.

The older man didn't glance my way the whole time. He just started to go at my dad again. 

Something, something. "You're using the kid to try and worm your way outta this one but it ain't gonna work!"

All I can remember from the rest of that visit, was crying, and trying to wake my mother out of her drunken slumber while the patriarchs threw shit at each other in the kitchen.

**_How charming_ ** .

I snapped out of it when the doc cleared her throat and welcomed me into the conversation a sickeningly sweet smile.

This time, he did turn to face me. 

Time seemed to be moving at half speed as I awkwardly approached the couch and carefully sat down next to him. 

I had to wonder, for a moment, if I could somehow make things worse just by sitting down and making the couch cushions deflate in the wrong way.

At first, there was nothing said. It was deafening, how silent the room became.

Dr. Ellsworth had to have been the one who started the conversation. I knew we were both too stubborn to start first.

"Gary! I'm so glad I finally got to meet some of your family!" She said, far too cheery for my taste.

My leg started bouncing around, like usual, and I did not speak to her at all at first. 

She's a traitor now, after all. 

I wanted to yell at her and tell her how much of an imbecile she was for not seeing past this man's facade. 

I wanted to tell her about his lying and manipulation and his greed. And yet, I couldn't jeopardize the hard work I had put into trying to get out of this joint.

And also, he was sitting right there.

And to think, I let this simple, boring woman consume my fantasies. Like a complete moron. 

All because she was the only vaguely feminine thing in this whole dump. 

How pathetic. A pair of tits had me blindsided and had evaporated my guard.

"What's this about?" I finally uttered, trying a little bit too hard to cover up my anxiety.

"Well, Gary. Your grandfather has informed me of your mother's..." She paused to find the correct words. Searching for the right words to say.

"Did something happen? Did she kill herself?" I tried my hardest not to come off as too eager or too outraged. But I was concerned. Not necessarily for my mother but more for myself. The idea of foster care getting involved when I'm nearly Eighteen made me ill.

"Oh no, sweetheart. Don't worry. It's just that...you're grandfather brought up that...perhaps it wouldn't be the best option for you to return to that household when you discharge."

When the topic of discharge came up my full attention was given back to the conversation.

"Discharge? What do you mean discharge?"

"Well it has come to my attention and the attention of some staff that your behavior has improved significantly." She paused and gave a knowing smile to my grandfather and almost jumped out of my seat. 

All I wanted to do in the moment was wrap my hands around his fat neck and snuff the life out of him for coming in and corrupting my woman. 

The one thing I had to look forward to when I woke up everyday in this garbage dump.

I didn't. I remained calm and kept listening.

"You're cooperating and taking your medication again and you're really starting to open up." She paused and I held my breath again. 

Waiting for that moment where she would say "But" or "Except"

And It did come, just not as I had anticipated.

"But, I wouldn't want to jeopardize all the progress you've made by sending you back to a household that may not be the best environment for you right now, Gary." She finally sighed and I almost joined her. 

_ Okay, Good. He hadn't ruined everything... Yet. _

"So, where exactly would I go when I get out of here, then?" I questioned.

"Well, the original plan was to let you discharge when you turned Eighteen in November-" I'm sure I made an audible sound or a terrible face because she immediately interrupted herself.

" **_But_ ** with the cooperation of my team, and with your medication on the right track we're considering an early discharge, so long as there's a stable environment to release you back into."

I was starting to get aggravated with her talking in circles, the way therapists tended to do. 

"That still doesn't answer my question. Where am I gonna live?" I practically hissed.

"With me, you dolt!" I guess the ghost of Christmas past got tired of picking at his ear hair and decided to join the conversation.

The fears I had when I first entered the room had become very real, very quickly, and I suddenly regretted not answering my mother's phone calls in the spring.

She always sent mail to bullworth rambling in the messiest cursive I'd ever seen in my life.

There wasn't a single letter that didn't contain a paragraph about my grandfather trying to convince her to hand custody of me over to him.

She said he had been trying at this shtick since my dad...Well...You know.

I always wrote it off as a lonely, drunk. Attempting to reconnect with her son. Dumping all of her worry and fears into crumpled lined paper and cheap wine. 

Apparently, she'd been right on the money about this one, though.

"Now, Mr. Smith. Please use kind words with Gary. I'm sure this is a lot to take in and process for him." 

I could _ feel _ my grandfather roll his eyes, and I joined him.

"What about my mother?" I piped in again. "How does she feel about this?" There was no way she'd actually hand me over to that monster like that.

I mean, sure, she had dumped me into the arms of questionable authorities for the majority of my adolescence. It happened at bullworth. It happened here. But surely, she had the foresight to understand that this pig didn't have anyone's "best interest" in mind.

My hopes became null as Dr. Ellsworth placed a stack of wordy papers on the coffee table that separated her from us.

At the bottom of the document, my mother's name was written in that same dramatic, chicken scratch I recognized from every letter she wrote me since freshman year. My stomach sank to the floor.

She did it. She fucking buckled like a wimp.

I pulled my lips into a flat line and exhaled out of my nose.

I don't know what I expected. I shouldn't really be surprised. The woman has about as much backbone as an octopus named Peter. Last name, Kowalski.

"Oh, come-on,  _ Junior.  _ We haven't spent  _ real _ family time together in what? Six? Seven years? I think it'll be fun." The old man bellowed out a lie then slapped me on my back far too hard for my liking.

Across the table that poor, gullible woman just smiled wide at the both of us. I bet she thought it was sweet. She was doing the Lord's work. Reuniting a troubled kid with his estranged family. What horse shit. 

"Oh and you've never met Lucy have you? Ah man. She's gonna  _ loooovee  _ you-"  _ blah blah blah _ He continued, babbling on about his new wife as I watched my life collapse around me once more this year.

Why do I even bother?

"Well, I'm certainly happy to see that Gary will have some support from his family when he discharges. I know Gary's trauma runs deep and I've personally watched his mistrust fluctuate-" _ blah blah blah- _

_ Shut up, woman! He doesn't care. He's not listening _ . _ You can't do this to me _ . My thoughts rang out but I couldn't speak.

I'm not really prone to anxiety. And fear certainly doesn't tend to affect me the way it does most people.

But oh man, if I can get away with writing it down and never being found out.

I'm terrified of that fat fuck.

"I have a discharge date of September 1st set. Will that be alright with you Mr. Smith?" Ellsworth asked and my Grandfather pretended to think about it for a moment.

"I don't think I have anything going on. That sounds perfectly fine to me." He chortled.

Two weeks.

We talked a bit more, then Ellsworth dismissed us, and we made our way to the exit. The large fool slapped his baseball mitt of a hand down on my back again. This time, he had a grip that felt like a warning.

" _ See you in two weeks, lad. _ " His voice was low and my blood ran cold. 

It reminded me of how he used to speak to my father and, in return, how my father spoke to me.

It sent me somewhere I hadn't been in a long time. A flurry of incidents like the slingshot scenario eclipsed my thoughts as I tried to fall asleep tonight. 

I'm no stranger to insomnia. Side effects, ya know. 

But, typically, when insomnia strikes it's random and irrelevant. My brain just doesn't fall asleep because it never stops. Tonight's been different. My mind is hyper focused on the events of the day. On what my grandfather could possibly want from me.

At first, I just thought he was going to hurt me or kill me, and I still believe he will retaliate against me for the incident at Bullworth. The stain I've put on our families already, "fragile" reputation. 

But as I got to thinking, I remembered his infatuation with his own self image. His never-ending boasting about his business. 

And then it hit me.

He needs a new heir.. 

I fell out of the rickety hospital bed and scrambled out of the blankets at this newly found information.

Of course! How could I not think of this while he was still here.

Scratch that! How the hell did I not think of this a year or two ago.

My sites were always so heavily set on Bullworth academy I didn't even think to imagine the whole, Goddamn, town of Bullworth.

That's when I went digging around for this thing. 

I remember throwing it under my bed at the beginning of the summer, never thinking twice about it. I didn't need it. If I have something to say, I'll say it.

That's never been a problem for me.

And it hadn't been, till now.

I used to say whatever I wanted. Ellsworth would write it down and sometimes she'd giggle and sometimes she'd frown.

Towards the beginning of my stay, it used to get me into a lot of trouble. 

But as the orderlies got more aggressive and I got tired of fighting them off, I found I could say things in a better, more effective way when I slowed down, sometimes. 

And the medication did do that.

It wasn't a fun realization by any means. It felt terrible. But it's not exactly like I had a choice.

And, besides. Dr. Ellsworth says, if there's a point in the future when I'm an adult and I don't want to take it anymore, she said she would help wane me off of it.

At first I thought she was trying to come on to me. But, really, I know better than that.

I expect her to honor that agreement, regardless.

Besides, it's a lot nicer to be given medication from a goddess rather than those big, gorillas.

Anyway, the journal. 

Looking back now, I can trace every single plan that fell through at Bullworth back to two variables.

Jimmy Hopkins, and my big, fat mouth.

When I figured out my grandfather's plan to instill me at the top of his "Empire" as his heir. I knew I couldn't yap about it to Ellsworth, even though I know that's what she'd want me to do.

Instead, I'm gonna play nice. Record every detail of that pig's plot. And completely usurp him.

Then, I'm gonna own this town.

And I'm gonna make Hopkins and Kowalski and anyone who's ever stood in my way  _ suffer. _

And Karen, if you happen to be reading my memoir from your study, buried in a pile of empty glasses. 

I want you to know this.

Fuck you for everything, except giving that fat man custody. 


End file.
